The Man Who Can't Be Moved
by flirtingintechnicolor
Summary: "I'm in love with Kurt Hummel," Mike sighed to himself as he laid down on his comforter. "And he's always going to be in love with someone else."
1. Prologue: Sure, She's Got Everything

"Mr. Shue, if I may," Kurt Hummel piped up from the front row. Most of the other students in the room rolled their eyes and sighed obnoxiously. It wasn't even the first time that day that he'd had something to say. Only a handful of classmates were attentive to what he had to say for the fifth time in the last forty five minutes.

"Yes, Kurt?" Mr. Shue answered slowly, nodding to him as he gathered his papers off the piano lid before the bell rang, indicating the end of class.  
>He didn't have to be asked twice, and gracefully pushed himself out of his seat. He whipped his burgundy plaid scarf around his neck, raising his plucked caramel eyebrows as he began. "Thank you, Mr. Shuester. Now, many of you know that I'm planning to perform in this year's Open Mike Night at our local Lima Bean. The winner takes home one hundred dollars cash and a certificate for free low-fat iced mocha Frappuccino's for a year. While it might not be a New York City worthy performance, a year's worth of scrumptious coffee is a matter not to be taken lightly."<p>

Finn Hudson raised his hand from the back of the room. He slumped in his cheap plastic choir chair, propping his feet up on the seat in front of him. He didn't wait to be called on, and voiced his opinion before Kurt had a chance to finish. "Excuse me, but why does your solo involve us? No offense or anything, but I don't get why we need to know."

The apples of Kurt's cheeks blushed as he tried to continue. His pride meant that he didn't like to be interrupted, especially for a rude comment like that. "I'm getting to that, Mr. Hudson," he snapped, huffing out of his nose in frustration. "What I'm trying to tell you all, is that I need a duet partner. I haven't had much luck with finding a piece that collaborates with this year's theme."

"And what would that be?" asked Quinn Fabray politely, slightly cocking her perfect blonde head to the left in curiosity.

"Closets," he clarified for the class, most of which weren't listening very intently. "Keeping something hidden from the rest of the world, whether it be a secret, or a confession, or a passion you're too nervous to show. While it's proved to be a difficult thing to find a selection for, I finally placed my finger on the perfect piece. It might be kind of silly, and childish, but it's killer. Trust me."

Mike Chang lifted his hand in the air, and, unlike Finn and Quinn, waited patiently to be chosen. Kurt momentarily ignored him, and carried on. "Part of Your World, from the Little Mermaid. I know, it's normally a solo, but a copy I came across has it beautifully arranged for two voices. I'm using this opportunity to ask if any of you would be willing to accompany. Willing to cope with the loss of the hundred dollar prize for your help," he added, which attracted many more eyes.

"I'll do it," Mike offered immediately from the back. He smiled warmly, standing up out of his chair and shoving his hands in his hoodie.

His face red once more, Kurt ran his hands through his brunette locks. "Um, Mike," he stammered, warm eyes apologetic. "I don't really know how to put this…I appreciate it, I really do. But, well, you can't exactly _sing._"

Mike's face dropped as he sat back down. "Of course, no biggie," he mumbled, but Kurt's attention had already drawn away from him.

"I'd love to," called Rachel Berry, clapping her hands together. Kurt's expression lit up, obviously more pleased with this offer than the prior one.

"Perfect!" he grinned, making his way back to his chair. "I'll keep you informed on the practice schedule."

"I have a few ideas on things we could do with this duet," began Rachel, already making her own mark on the song before she'd even seen it. The bell rang outside the door, and the students hurriedly gathered their textbooks and bags and made their way to the exit.

Mike lingered behind, taking his time shoving his binder in his backpack. "Maybe next time," he told himself, running his finger over the names scratched on the cardboard backing of his notebook. "Just keep waiting, Mike, it'll happen soon." The skin of his thumb felt the _MC_ and _KH_ that had been etched in with the stub of a pencil months before. He sighed heavily, trying to believe the measurements he muttered under his breath. Everything in his backpack, he rubbed his wrist under his eye, and held his head high as he left the choir room.


	2. Prologue 2: Just The Way You Are

** Sorry this took so long to get up! Please review? These will certainly get much longer as the story carries on!**

"Now step to the left with your right foot, and then step behind you. Remember, Finn, you're leading, so you've got to slide him in the right direction."

Finn, sweat falling down his face onto his chest, managed to do the complete opposite. Mike contained his sigh, and forced a supportive smile on his face.

"It's getting better, Finn! Don't lose focus," he tried, grin hurting his cheeks. As daft as Finn was, he caught on to Mike's struggling.

"God damn it," the quarterback breathed, dropping Mike's arms and pressing "Stop" on the CD player. He slumped onto the ground, back resting on the mirror wall of the hardly-used McKinley dance studio. "I can't do it, Mike. I'm going to make a fool out of myself, and embarrass Kurt." Mike could hear the self-disappointment in Finn's voice, and kneeled down next to him.

"Come on, Finn!" he urged. Leaning on his arm, he stared Kurt's step-brother in the eye. Finn tried to look away, but Mike stopped him.

"I can't do it, Mike," he repeated, tears starting to mix with the salty sweat on his crimson cheeks.

"Finn," he said softly, gripping the boy's hand. "I know you can't dance. The entire glee club does. Kurt isn't going to expect a Dancing with the Star's worthy dance at your mother's wedding."

Finn glared at him, scowling. "Great pep talk, man."

Mike chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "Honesty's the best policy. Anyways, you really want to show Kurt that you're sorry about everything that's happened the last year, don't you?"

He sniffled, lowering his head onto his chest. "I suppose."

"Yes, you do. That's why you came to me, pleading for ballroom-dancing lessons outside of your normal Kurt-directed ones. You want to tell him that you love him, and you're more than pleased that he's your new step brother."

"I do care about him," Finn mumbled. Mike knew that was an understatement; he'd never seen someone feel for someone as much as Finn did about Kurt. The two of them had become closer than step-brothers normally did. Both of them had turned out to be family, accepting each other and learning how to be the best for the other one. As much as Mike treasured Kurt, he knew he'd never be able to match their closeness.

"Finn, you _can _do this. This dance will be the best way you could ever show Kurt how much he means to you." _And it'll become one of the happiest moments in his life,_ Mike thought to himself. _And Kurt being happy will make me happy._

Finn rubbed underneath his eye with his wrist, and smiled gently. "You're right, Mike. I have to do this." The two of them shared a grin, and were back on their feet dancing within minutes.

* * *

><p>The final run-through of "Just the Way You Are" went fantastically, ending with Finn mastering the final move and the two panting from exhaustion.<p>

Finn wiped his forehead with the front of his shirt and grabbed his backpack. The clock already ticked 7:27 PM, and it was time that Mike and Finn head back to their respective homes for the day.

The first one out the door, Finn shrugged on his football jacket and held the door open for Mike. "You coming?" he called, watching the other boy stare at himself in the mirror.

"Nah, I think I'll stay for a few more minutes," Mike responded after him, waving goodbye to the taller boy. A thank-you and see-you-tomorrow left Finn's mouth , but Mike didn't reply. The second Finn left the doorway and his footsteps echoed down the hallway, Mike began to dance once more.

Leading the way, Mike spun Kurt dramatically, turning the smaller boy in circles eloquently. He imagined the caramel-haired boy wrapping his elegant arms around his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Mike rubbed small circles into Kurt's back with his fingers, tracing across his spine. He could almost feel his eyelashes sleeping lazily on the skin of his neck, chest leaning into him as they moved across the dance floor.

"Oh, Mike," Kurt sighed, looking up at him with his blue-grey eyes gently. "You're an amazing dancer, you know."

Mike blushed, smiling back at him. "Thank you, love."

"I love you," imaginary Kurt whispered, each word leaving his mouth beautifully, every consonant pronounced perfectly.

"I love you, too," he breathed, meaning every syllable of the over-used phrase. "More than anything I've ever loved in the world.

Kurt reached up to him, fluttering his eyes closed as he leaned up to kiss the other boy.

Mike softly ran his fingers through the buttery locks, memorizing each strand as he leaned in as well. Their lips brushed against each other as Kurt whipped around towards the door, gasping as he dissolved in Mike's arms.

"Hey, kid. Time to finish up," the janitor barked, peeping into the door. Seeing the Asian boy holding a non-existent dance partner, puckering into the air, the janitor blushed and closed his eyes. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," the man chuckled as he shook his head.

Mike felt his cheekbones flush with rose, and wiped his hands in his jeans pockets. "Sorry, sir," he mumbled as he grabbed his black and white checkered jacket headed towards the door, glancing back in before he closed the door.

Imaginary Kurt smiled at him from the mirror, mouthing the three words once again as he waved goodbye for the night.


	3. Don't Look Back at this Crumbling Fool

**Aloha, readers. Before you all rip me to shreds about this update, I'd just like to explain some stuff. **

**Originally, I'd planned to put this in the direction of angst-y Mike-and-Kurt-Only, from him shedding a tear while watching Kurt the Warbler videos on YouTube, to him resenting himself for not being open enough about his life to his friends and family. But then I realized: Don't we have enough **_**Omg, why doesn't he, like, want to love me? What does he have that I don't? What is wroooooooong with me? **_**stories? **

**Fuck that. **

**Sorry, I really should watch my language more. But cursing aside, I feel like I could spice up this story a little. Sure, there'll be romance, but there'll be hat full of lust and adultery in the mix, too. So, I'm sorry if I offend anyone, but if you don't want to read through regret, flaming tempers, confusion, and sex (oh, God, there's going to be quite a bit of that last one; don't be alarmed when this story ends up getting rated M) then you're going to have to give up on me.**

**Anyone still here? Awesome.**

**The first two chapters of this fan fiction are going to be kind of the "prologue", which set the mood for the rest of the story. This chapter takes place before even the **_**first**_** episode of Season Two, also known as "Mike and Tina Go to Asian Camp". Hope this explains some. Rest of the story will take place from this moment on, in chronological order. I already have Blaine, Sebastian, Karofsky, Jesse, Brittany, Zizzes, and Holly Holiday's characters rough drafted. **

**Shit, this was long. Well, enjoy!**

A sharp pair of teeth nipped at Mike's tongue as fingernails dug into his shoulders. They tasted like coffee and cinnamon gloss, urging him to dip deeper down the unfamiliar throat. The arms locked around his wiggling frame as he obediently slid his tongue over the pinching teeth.

_Is this what being turned on is supposed to feel like? _He tightened his grip as gently as he could, attempting to still please his partner's obvious hunger for him to push his chest as hard as he could into the other. He could feel the craving radiating off the skin, like it had never wanted anything as much as to be close to the body on his lap as it did right now. _God_, he mentally moaned as the teeth bit into him again.

"Oh, _Kurt_," he groaned, wrapping his arms around the waist that straddled his hips tighter.

"What the Hell did you just call me?" Tina Cohen-Chang snapped, jerking her lips from his chapped mouth as quickly as she'd slammed them on there. The moon snuck through the screens that covered the cabin windows, reflecting off her glaring eyes and jutted chin. Shit.

He fumbled for words as she leaned out from his reach. She shimmied her legs off his lap so that she could stare directly into his eyes, tiny visions of bruises dancing in his head. Shit, shit, shit.

"I said, that hurt," he mumbled, pulling her closer again until she'd stop giving him that goddamn _look_. The more she punctured him with her vision, the closer he knew she was to realizing _it._

She accepted the answer as it rolled off his tongue, and soon returned to shoving her face in a less-than-enthusiastic Mike's.

Only this morning, he'd been pining away for Kurt in his car, writing down his feelings by singing passionately, but frankly far out of key. His stereo filled the car with the depressing "love songs" of N'Sync, usually reserved for adolescent girls in the 1990's. Who better to mourn your sexual frustration to than a good, old-fashioned boy band, though? Anyways, he'd had to have something to think about on the two-and-a-half hour drive to Asian Camp, besides the sun of a bitch's glare on his windshield.

The second he'd slid out of his seat onto the Asian Camp parking lot on the first day, however, he got the feeling that something was about to stir up trouble in his hopelessly romantic dramatic teenager typical veins. A simple wave of the hand, and she had her eyes locked on him until he disappeared into the camp director's office.

That was the thing about Tina. After years of pretending to have a stutter, she'd never lost her ability to communicate with the rest of the world. Her eyes were open to anyone who knew how to read them, proudly displaying every depressed, excited, dull, raged, amused, and frankly, horny thought that popped in her female head. Never one to talk much himself, years of middle school classes and Glee club lessons had left him easily recognizing everything she said, and didn't say.

And what was glowing vividly in her billboard eyes, very obviously, was that she wanted Mike. Bad.

He managed to entangle himself with some of the other counselors, Erik Dongmei, Wyatt Ju, and Ferris Hegang, at dinner and the first evening campfire. He couldn't help but catch her cocky smirks from across the flames, though, but he brushed them out of his mind every time one of the Xuedong triplets tried to combust another camper.

"Brotha Mike?" Ferris carped over, known as the more unpleasantly "urban" of the music counselors.

He'd just hoisted a sobbing six year old onto his knees, asking him "What?" in between peeling burnt marshmallow off the girl's fingers and consoling her.

"Someone's got her eyes on you," giggled Erik boyishly from behind him. While most of the counselors were from around Ohio, he flew every summer up to the music camp from a small homely town in Texas. Mike felt his throat gulp instinctively, and hoped that the sliver of a moon didn't give off enough light for his embarrassed blushing to be visible.

Wyatt patted the guilty looking boy on the head as he lifted the calmed-down camper off his lap. "We overheard Tina whispering to Ai Ling in the cafeteria about how she's done with her 'stick in the mud boyfriend', and she was craving a 'slice of the Changster pie.'"

It took all his strength not to paint a barf mural of hot dogs and s'mores on the ground, but the three guys acknowledged his gagging. "Oh, come on, Mick-o. Her body be pretty tight, if you catch my drift," grinned Ferris. The chubby Korean in his camp-issued navy polo and sagging khaki pants was impossible to take seriously.

"What Ferris is saying," coughed Wyatt as he slid Oscar Meyers onto campfire pokers and handed them to impatient kids, "is that Tina isn't bad looking. Sure, she has that whole "Goth dragon vegetarian" thing going on-"

"She's probably the funniest chick here this year, and she's real nice to look at," finished Erik, licking sticky marshmallow fluff off his fingers as he spoke. His Western drawl made the last part sound way cliché, but the expression on his face let him know what the three boys were trying to tell him. _Come on, Mike. She's hot, she's here, and actually into you. If you don't jump on her, don't be surprised when we do._

"I think I'll have to pass, boys," he chuckled lamely as he headed over to the latest Xuedong terrorist attack. Wyatt, Erik, and Ferris rolled their eyes at him as he left. _You don't know what you're missing out on._

Once he'd tucked the last trooper in their anime sleeping bag for the night, he'd grabbed his suitcases and duffel bags out of his steel beater and headed to the director's office to get assigned his cabin. Your cabin decided your sleeping bunks for the next two weeks, the twelve kids you'd be rescuing from tipped over canoes and teaching to read sheet music, and your co-counselor. Last year, he'd been lucky enough to get stuck with Wyatt. It was a rule that you never got the same co-counselor twice, but his fingers were still crossed for Erik, Ferris, or one of the other dancers.

His stomach dropped when he saw Ferris and Wyatt bumping fists outside the plywood door. _There's always Erik_, he reminded himself as he pressed his palms on the panels to push it open. The list hung across the room, next to an ecstatic Erik and strained looking Allison Lien, one of the pretty woodwind girls.

"Guess who gets to see Allison painting her toenails in lingerie and reading Cosmo in her bikini every day?" hissed Erik, plenty within earshot of his roommate. She sighed through her ski slope nostrils as she dragged her lavender baggage across the floor, away from her latest fan. Mike would have snorted, had he not just realized that that meant there was a 99% chance he wouldn't know his roommate.

In large, hulking Comic-Sans, letters smudged next to the name "Chang, Jr, Mike", loomed three words that almost made him sprint out the doors and back into his truck.

Cohen-Chang.

Tina.

_Of course, with my own goddamned fantastic luck, who else would I get paired with, but the one and only, Tina Cohen-fucking-Chang? The one person I wouldn't be alright with sleeping next to every night, sharing campers with, and being forced to live next to? God, what if _she_ paints her toenails in nothing but lacy panties and skimpy bras? What am I supposed to do then? How the Hell am I to be expected to not place a restraining order on the sexually eager girl?_

_Fuck this,_ he grunted to himself as he'd hoisted his duffel bags over his shoulders. _Maybe I should take Kurt's religious angle sometime, because whoever's ruling up there has a pretty fucked up sense of humor._

To his lack of surprise, the second he'd kicked open the hinges on the screen door, there she was, clothed in a charcoal colored less-fabric, more-cleavage tank top, and a pair of black gym shorts that he knew her father would euthanize her for owning. She was sprawled gracefully on her already made bed, unpolished toes kneading the comforter delicately as she browsed through something on her Kindle. She peeked over the top of the virtual novel and gave him a tiny smile once she heard his feet on the camp-issued welcome mat.

Like some guys thought with their dick, Mike thought with his feet. It wasn't just skill that allowed him to become emotionally enveloped in a dance routine. It was like there was a tiny mind in each one of his toes that knew exactly how to portray any and all of his feelings.

And now, they were telling him to book and run.

"Hey, Mike!" she greeted timidly, fingers still sliding pages of the book on the touch screen. "Isn't it crazy that we got roomed together this year? They hardly ever partner up kids from the same town, let alone the same high school!"

"Yeah, real wild," he uttered as he turned his back to her to unpack his suitcase on the bed, _if you don't accept the idea of the Devil._ His khakis and undergarments spread across the ratty blanket, careful not to display any of his boxers.

"So," she attempted, leaning up so that her feet touched the floor. "How was your first day?"

"Fine." _Until now. How is she not catching on that I don't want to "chat"?_

"Didn't the drive up here this week seem ridiculously long?"

"Not really." _The next two weeks are going to feel a hell of a lot longer._

"The ride home always seems long, too though."

"Uh-huh." He knew he was being uncharacteristically rude, but his blood had begun to boil. For seven years of middle and high school together, she should've known that he wasn't particularly a big talker. The fact that she was forcing conversation on him had started to piss him off.

"Having a good summer so far?"

"No." _Damn, she's persistent._

"Oh? Why not?"

"No reason." _Does she do this to everyone, or just guys she plans on jumping in their sleep?_

"Oh. That's too bad."

"Sure." _Holy shit. She doesn't give up. Ever._

"Recognize anyone from last year?"

"Yup." _Sadly, you. Too bad you don't come with a muzzle. _

"Well, then. Made any new friends?"

He sighed, slamming the lid of his baggage with a _bang!_ ""Listen, Tina. Do you plan on interrogating me every night for the next two weeks?"

She opened her mouth hastily to defend herself, but he jabbed a finger in the air, silently declaring that he wasn't finished.

Facing her as he slid his suitcase under the cot, he spoke with a tone that almost surprised him. "Because if you are, we're going to have a problem."

Tina's normally peachy complexion turned cardinal as her smile dropped. "I'm s-s-sorry," she stuttered quietly, hiding her face in her eBook quickly.

_Oh, shit_, Mike moaned mentally, slapping his hand over his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that so harshly.

_Goddamnit, Mike. Why the Hell do you have to be such an asshole to her? Just because she has a crush on you, doesn't mean she's the Antichrist and going to rape you while you're not looking. _His eyes closed, mortified at what he'd just said.

_ A lustful teenage girl, who's never been anything but nice to you, suddenly wants your dick, and you freak out on her? The girl was picked on worse than you were in elementary and middle school, for having a self-inflicted stutter. Clearly she wasn't going to take a jab like that, moron, and ignore it. She cares even more than you do about what other people's opinions of her are. And look who's the number one dickface now, Mr. Stop-It-Twenty-Questions-Whore._

_ What would Kurt say if he saw you right now? _He couldn't even think about how ashamed he'd feel if Kurt had witnessed what he'd just told the poor girl. Hell, he'd never look at him again.

He stumbled across the room, his furious feet carrying him over to her mattress to apologize. "Shit, Tina. I didn't mean that," he muttered, wire frame of the bed creaking under his weight as he sat down.

"It's fine," she said through her lips without moving them. He felt her own self-anger steaming off of her skin. She wasn't mad at Mike. She was furious at herself for being so stupid, he knew. He could see it in her crushed brown eyes.

He placed a hand on her knee; _girls think guys are nice when they do that, right?_ He could feel it trembling, making him feel even worse. "No, it isn't. That was completely uncalled for."

"Mike, it's fine," she repeated, but she didn't push his hand away. He could feel it starting to get weird, and crossed his other fingers that she didn't take it as a romantic gesture. "I promise to not ask you any more questions throughout the following thirteen days. Scout's honor."

Mike smiled faintly as she stuck out her two front fingers and made the Boy Scout signal on her forehead. "Seriously, it's not a big deal. It's just that it's the first day of camp, and I'm a bit tense." It wasn't even a complete lie. He simply left out the parts about missing a certain fashionista back home and being terrified of a supposedly interested woman.

This caught her attention, and a wide grin appeared from ear to ear. "Why didn't you just say that, then?" she giggled as she looked up from her feet.

His brow creased, not quite understanding what she was getting at. "Say what?"

"We're all a bit tense! I know this isn't Woodstock. It just usually takes a few days for everything to start happening, until our counselor circle starts opening up more." She shrugged her petite shoulders, braless chest jiggling inside her tank top as she did.

He jerked his hand off his knee, feeling it begin to sweat. "Tina, I seriously don't have any clue what you're talking about."

"Mike, it's okay!" She put her own hand on Mike's kneecap, causing the bones in his leg to clamp. _What the Hell is she talking about? _"You don't have to be sheepish in front of me."

The Adam's apple in his throat bobbed up and down, and he could feel the tips of his ears turning pink. Her mindless babbling was starting to make him feel uncomfortable. "Tina, you have to believe me when I tell you that I have absolutely no idea what the Hell you're going on about."

She rolled her eyes and squeezed his knee. It was like she'd passed her own trembling legs over into his, because his femur bone was now shaking feverently. "Mike, I'm saying that you're craving someone's touch."

Her statement caused his feet to try to leap up, but he forced himself to cling to the blanket underneath him. _How the fuck does she know that?_ "What…what are you saying?" he faltered, unable to think of anything else to respond with. _Nobody knows about that. Barely even I do. So how the fuck does Tina?_

"I'm saying, that being here, alone, away from the contact of the outside world, really gets to you after a while," she started slowly, looking down at his ratty Converse again. He glanced up at the ceiling, as if God was going to come down and strike her down before she could say anything else about Kurt.

She continued, "We all start feeling a bit…dry, you know? The lack of romance and provocation leaves anyone feeling restless." Her gaze fell on his calves, her sight gradually rising.

Mike didn't have a clue what to say back to that. "Are you feeling…um...restless?" he choked. Despite the darkness the evening had brought, the unlit cabin didn't have chance at hiding his crimson face.

He'd never even had his first kiss, and here she was, rambling about how "sexually deprived" she felt. He held back a tiny smile when he thought of the people didn't understand why he scoffed when they asked why didn't fit in with everyone else.

Her hand, having yet to leave his knee, began to knead his skin gently. "You know I love Artie, of course, but I'm miserable here. He can't satisfy me like someone else could, and I feel like, if I don't get what I need, I might just not make it the rest of camp." Her voice had a strange mixture of pleading and purring to it, as if she was trying to seduce him into bed with her.

Red lights began to fill his head like fire alarms, his heart rate shooting up several beats. _Oh, shit._ "Like someone else cou-" he repeated. Before he knew what she was doing, she'd grabbed his neck and her tongue had fallen in his still-speaking mouth**. **

_What the fucking Hell is she doing? _He sputtered internally, eyes opening violently as she slid her tongue in and out of his throat. Her hands grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into her face. He almost pushed her away, but he gave it a second thought when he looked at her surface.

Even through the purple eye shadow with her eyelids squeezed shut, he could read the expression they gave. While his were frightened and wide with horror, hers looked sad, needy, thirsting to be yearned for.

_Oh, God. _He couldn't shoot her down twice. She'd be heartbroken. Well, maybe not heartbroken, but clearly disappointed in herself for not being appetizing and worthy enough for him. _There's some serious daddy issues in this girl,_ he mused bitterly, trying to figure out what on Earth to do without crushing her for the second time that night.

Her lips sucked the side of his cheek tenderly. _What on God's green Earth is even happening?_ his brain cried. _Do people actually enjoy this? Because all I'm getting is her spit in my mouth and bruises on my cheeks. Fuck. Why me? Why not Wyatt, or Erik, or Ferris? Why not someone who actually likes this kind of stuff? Stuff like…women. I'm kissing a girl. Holy shit, I'm kissing a girl! _Bless her for keeping her eyes closed, or she'd catch a glimpse of the new level of terror covering his face.

_I can't pull out now! What if she's giving me the ultimate make out techniques to ever grace the female population, and she feels me hesitating or I run like a bat straight out of Hell? She'll know that I'm not into girls, and she'll tell everyone. I don't want everyone to know! I don't even want Kurt to know yet! _

_I have to stay. If I don't, they'll all know. I don't want the entire football team of McKinley beating the life out of me for the next two years._

That was it. He couldn't leave her this way. Neither of them would ever forgive him. He didn't even want to think about what Artie back home would say if he saw him doing this. _Oh, God. And Kurt_. His own eyelids clamped shut at the thought of that. _Not only am I snogging an affection-distressed girl out of pity, and assisting in her mission to ruin both her relationship and any possible friendship between me and her boyfriend back home, I'm also going as far as to make out with her so that I can keep my God damn sexuality a secret!_

A thought struck his head. If he wasn't going to shove her away, then what exactly was he going to do? He supposed he'd have to kiss her back, but how? She laced her fingers through the hair on his neck like she'd done it to dozens of boys before. It was clear that she wasn't an amateur when it came to stuff like this. The prospect of that made him gulp down more of her saliva. Merely the thought of her made him sick to the stomach. Nothing against the girl herself, of course, but the fact that she was a girl went against every ounce of his being.

She was starting to loosen up, which made Mike more unsettled, if that was possible at this point. Her teeth bite him here and there, fingernails having begun to leave little unwanted crescents on the nape of his neck. His toes curled in his tennis shoes, resisting the urge not to kick her in the shins. Why was she treating him and his unfortunate tongue like a piece of Double Bubble? There was no way in Hell that Kurt would have done that. He was too fond of romance and delicacy.

How was it possible for this come so easily to her? It was like she had a passion in her that he didn't, one that originated from thousands of years of heterosexual spontaneity. Was it really so bad that he preferred sentimentality with a fair-skinned boy with a sweet tempered smile and fiercely determined blue eyes? Or was socially accepted sex with someone you had absolutely no attraction supposed to be more natural that love itself?

After a moment of philosophical angst, he realized something.

If he could simply overcome his distaste for Tina (and every other female who'd possibly attempt to get in his pants over the following years) itself, maybe he could turn it around. As easily as Tina was pretending that he was a straight guy interested in chewing her tongue off, he could imagine that his current kiss was actually with...Kurt.

Those nips were Kurt's perfect teeth, aching for him to sink into the kiss. So he did.

Kurt's lean, elegant fingers clinging to the skin of his shoulders, moving lower until they wrapped around his stomach until he couldn't escape. So he didn't.

Kurt's torso rubbing against his chest, angrily cursing at him for not being close enough. So he obeyed.

It was Kurt's long, thin leg that swung off the bed and curled around his waist, resting his ass on his thighs so that he'd promise to stay until he was done. So he compiled.

By this point, Mike had completely submerged himself in the idea of the tingling body on his lap was actually Kurt's. He had to admit; now that he'd convinced himself that it was him, the kissing had gotten a lot more satisfying.

As the mischievous teeth sunk into his tongue again, Mike couldn't contain himself.

"Oh, _Kurt,_" he groaned, realizing it a second too late that it had unarguably been not the best thing to say.

Her lips wasted no time slamming off his mouth as her almond shaped eyes opened wide. "What the Hell did you just call me?" she barked, voice as sharp as the crack of a whip.

"I said, that hurt," he improvised hastily, slightly impressed with his life-or-death situation skills. _I should join_ _the CIA. _For a moment, her expression didn't change. _Please let her buy it, God. Shit, if she gets that I just said…I'm more than fucked. _

Thankfully, after a second of pondering his explanation, she accepted it and had slid back into his mouth as if nothing had happened. He pulled her in tight, to avoid any other suspicion that he wasn't 100% into this.

That was it; no more pretending that she was Kurt. It was stupid, much too risky. He'd have to give in, and just follow her lead. After Asian Camp, she'd go back home to an oblivious Artie, and he could resume his relationship with Cool Ranch Doritos and depressing love songs. _Just thirteen more days, Mike. You can do this, and then it'll all go back to normal._

By this time senior year, he'd realized that as fucked up as everything had gotten in high school, he'd never regretted any decision as much as his sophomore year at Asian Camp. Why? Because after this, nothing went back to normal.

**Okay, that was kind of angst-y. Shoot me.**

**Oh, and I'm changing my penname to **_**S.C. Matisse**_** pretty soon, for anyone who cares. Have a happy holiday season!**


End file.
